This actually occured a few months ago, but I haven't had anyone to share it with.
In my sociology course during my senior year of high school our big assignment for fourth term was to do a 20 minute oral presentation on a topic of our choosing that could somehow be related to sociology. I freaked, of course, when he told us about it on the first day of school. The fear faded as the year went on but sprang back up when fourth term rolled around. I started contemplating ways to get out of it. Drop the course, get sick, skip the class, skip school. Anything.
But I didn't. I didn't drop the course, I didn't get sick or skip. I sat up in front of my sociology class of some 30-odd students that I barely knew to nod a greeting to in the hall (with one exception, a classmate who has no idea how much of a help she was to me senior year) for twenty minutes and told them about my social anxiety. The whole time I was shaking and sweating and my heart was going a mile a minute, but I didn't shy away. I spoke clearly and slowly. I looked up into the eyes of my classmates instead of staring at my notes. I explained what it feels like, physically and mentally. I told them about how people thought me snobby when in fact I was terrified of them. I told them everything, and it wasn't the end of the world. They were interesting. They paid attention. They had general questions, concerns. They were supportive. They were kind. I wasn't a freak. For a bit, I wasn't that quiet, vaguely artsy chick in the corner reading "The Silmarillion" and drawing dragons and looking like she was ingoring everyone when in fact she was listening very closly, taking it all in, but terrified of joining in despite her yearning to do so.
I was... I was... I was scared ****less, but it was a rush. I was... happy.
In my sociology course during my senior year of high school our big assignment for fourth term was to do a 20 minute oral presentation on a topic of our choosing that could somehow be related to sociology. I freaked, of course, when he told us about it on the first day of school. The fear faded as the year went on but sprang back up when fourth term rolled around. I started contemplating ways to get out of it. Drop the course, get sick, skip the class, skip school. Anything.
But I didn't. I didn't drop the course, I didn't get sick or skip. I sat up in front of my sociology class of some 30-odd students that I barely knew to nod a greeting to in the hall (with one exception, a classmate who has no idea how much of a help she was to me senior year) for twenty minutes and told them about my social anxiety. The whole time I was shaking and sweating and my heart was going a mile a minute, but I didn't shy away. I spoke clearly and slowly. I looked up into the eyes of my classmates instead of staring at my notes. I explained what it feels like, physically and mentally. I told them about how people thought me snobby when in fact I was terrified of them. I told them everything, and it wasn't the end of the world. They were interesting. They paid attention. They had general questions, concerns. They were supportive. They were kind. I wasn't a freak. For a bit, I wasn't that quiet, vaguely artsy chick in the corner reading "The Silmarillion" and drawing dragons and looking like she was ingoring everyone when in fact she was listening very closly, taking it all in, but terrified of joining in despite her yearning to do so.
I was... I was... I was scared ****less, but it was a rush. I was... happy.
